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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25680376">Fából Vaskarika</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bamf_babe/pseuds/Bamf_babe'>Bamf_babe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Curses, Dragon Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Transformation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:42:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,421</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25680376</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bamf_babe/pseuds/Bamf_babe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fából Vaskarika (Hungarian) - an attempt at a logical impossibility. </p><p>No dragon should ever be forced into human shape, should have to lose the freedom of the air for the chains of the earth. It is wrong and should be impossible, but here Jaskier is. </p><p>He has been twisted and bent into a shape that is not his own, cut off from everything he had ever known. Still, he's hoping to make the best of it. Perhaps the Witcher Geralt of Rivia might be able to lend a helping hand. </p><p>AKA Jaskier is a dragon cursed into a human form. This is the story of how he reaches the skies once more.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>160</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fából Vaskarika</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jaskier was tired. It was an exhaustion that sank into his very bones that still didn’t feel quite right, quite settled. It pushed into his heart that was too small and fed into his limbs that weren’t the right shape. Nothing felt right anymore. His skin was far too sensitive, too gangly, too uncoordinated. He hated the feeling of clothes on his skin of the way his back felt light and his fingers curled in unnatural ways. He was tired of pretending he was okay with this, that he had accepted this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking on two legs was a balancing act he hardly has time for while sober and now, getting as drunk as possible in a tavern in Posada at the edge of the world, well, let’s say his coordination had not improved. He finished his drink, the tenth in a row, and threw it at the barkeep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another!” he cried out, slurring his words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The barkeep ducked his sloppy throw and gave him a ferocious scowl. Jaskier was confused, what had he done wrong?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get. Out.” the man said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, two men grabbed Jaskier, one under each arm, and proceeded to lift him up and toss him out onto his ass outside the tavern. His lute followed shortly after, hitting his chest. He laid on the ground for a moment, absolutely miserable. Maybe he should just lie here forever, let the grass eat him up and use him for fertilizer. It wasn’t as though he had anything useful left to offer this world. What was he good for? Absolutely nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was a human with absolutely no ability to defend himself and the only useful thing he had going for him was that he could play the lute. Fantastic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, he was grateful to his mother’s friends, the Pankratzes for taking him in, giving him an identity, sending him to school. However, it could not erase the deep feeling of loss inside of him. He was able to push it away at Oxenfurt, focus on his studies, and pretend that he was simply here to learn more about the human world. Jaskier told himself this wouldn’t be forever and eventually, he could go home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he graduated from Oxenfurt and was handed a certification and now he was stuck. He couldn’t continue fooling himself. He couldn’t go home again, he couldn’t keep pretending he was just playing at being human. He was human now. For good. Never again would he sore above the skies and feel the air on his scales, never again would he curl up with his mother and feel her chaos thrum alongside his. Never again would he go to the temples and help the Priestesses channel their magic. The hills and valleys, mountains, and animals he grew up with were no longer available to him. He was a man and belonged in the world of man. He looked around at the people milling around Posada, at the wooden homes and layered clothing. This was his home now. Fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been lying down long enough, perhaps it had been hours and he had dozed off, that he was no longer feeling the effects of alcohol as much. He was contemplating how long it would take to become one with the ground when a boot stomped firmly on his middle before continuing onwards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier shot straight up, “Excuse me!” he called out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, in front of him now, about to enter the tavern, was a man. He was dressed head to toe in black armor with silver studs, he carried two mean-looking swords, had long white hair and the meanest glare Jaskier had yet to see on a human. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man did not respond so Jaskier stood up and dusted himself off saying, “Did you just step on me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were in the way,” the man’s voice was deep and every word sounded like a growl. Jaskier felt threatened by this perceived threat and felt himself trying to growl in return but stopped once he realized how ridiculous it sounded out of his human mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And does that give you an excuse to plant your humongous foot right into my stomach?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It gives me the right to treat you as part of the street.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nerve of this man! Jaskier walked right up to his face and for a moment he forgot his confining human form, “I’ll take you down to the fucking street and see how you like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man looked at him, taking in the threat and Jaskier’s complete lack of weapons and slender frame before laughing and turning away, “I am not going to even indulge that comment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he turned and walked away. Oh no, Jaskier thought, this man was not going to get away that easily. He picked up a rock and threw it at the man. It hit the back of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do not get to leave this conversation so easily,” Jaskier said, “I want an apology.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the man turned around his yellow eyes bore into Jaskier’s, but he refused to back down, “I owe you nothing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he walked into the tavern and Jaskier, now just about completely sober, followed behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to leave you alone you know,” he said to the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off,” the man said, walking over to a table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The barkeep then caught sight of Jaskier, “Hey you!” he called, “I told you to get out of here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier waved him off, “I’m not going to drink anything, just get me some food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The barkeep looked suspicious but Jaskier was sober now and he was a paying customer. With a glare, he put together a bowl of stew and Jaskier thanked him. He was relatively sure the man had spit in his soup but couldn’t bring himself to care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked over with his soup to the terribly rude man and sat down across from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man looked up, glared, waited as the barkeep brought him some soup as well then said, “I told you to fuck off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I told you that I require an apology.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man rolled his eyes, “You are insufferable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he started in on the soup, apparently hoping that if he ignored Jaskier long enough then he would simply go away. Fat chance of that. This was the first mildly interesting thing to happen to Jaskier in a long time. He was going to annoy the shit of this man for everything he was worth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Jaskier said once the man was running low on his soup, “Can I have a name for quite possibly the rudest man I have ever met?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man looked at him with confusion in his eyes, “You don’t know who I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier huffed, not only was he rude but also arrogant, “You think you are someone special? If I knew your name I wouldn’t exactly be asking now would I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man paused for a moment then said, “Geralt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just Geralt? That’s a bit boring, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s yours then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a bit boring isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier turned away from Geralt then, unhappy that he had managed to use his own phrase against him. Still, the armor was a bit odd. He wondered if he was a soldier from some Kingdom around here. He had read about a few different battles and wars in Oxenfurt but he didn’t know what armor looked like from different kingdoms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Geralt, what brings a man in full armor out to the middle of nowhere such as Posada?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt shrugged, “Looking for work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier wrinkled his nose, “There isn’t much work to be found here, trust me I’d know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt got up and began walking out of the tavern, “Work often finds me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, as if the universe itself had heard Geralt, a man stood up from a nearby table and walked over to him, the man looked tired, frenzied, “A job I’ve got for ya. I beg you. A devil- he’s been stealing all our grain. In advance, I’ll pay you. A hundred ducat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt looked the man up and down. Jaskier was now wondering what kind of job Geralt had. Was he some kind of mercenary? A devil? Well, he assumed that must be slang for some kind of thief. Geralt did look the part of a mercenary. Jaskier hung back listening to the conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One-fifty.” Geralt said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other man nods, “I’ve no doubt you’ll come through. You take no prisoners, so I hear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No prisoners? Geralt must be a rather accomplished mercenary then. Probably famous too. Must be why he was surprised Jaskier hadn’t heard of him. He followed Geralt out of the tavern and towards his horse. Geralt began leading the brown horse upwards to a path. For a moment, Jaskier wondered how Geralt knew where to go but then decided he had probably heard rumors of this Devil thief and had scoped out the area in advance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt stopped halfway up the hill, “Why are you still following me?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have nothing better to do,” Jaskier said, “I can follow you around and try and find something interesting or attempt to drink myself to death followed by becoming one with the grasses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The horse snorts. So does Geralt, Jaskier really hopes Geralt and his horse aren’t psychically connected, then Geralt says “Is that what you were doing outside the tavern, attempting to join the grass?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier turns his head, looking away from Geralt, “Maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them walk together in silence for a few miles. Jaskier does not have much to say to this man, merely interested in what adventures he might find himself in, and Geralt clearly considers him an unwanted burden. Perhaps Jaskier could ask Geralt about past bounties he’s hunted. There are plenty of songs about mercenaries and they are gaining popularity. It would be a way for him to earn food and shelter at least. He’d have to find some way to earn coin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They reached a field of grain, this must be where the ‘devil’ was stealing from. Jaskier decided to chance asking Geralt about the details of the situation, maybe he could glean a better understanding of what kind of thief they were looking for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What exactly should we be looking for here? I’ve no idea what this devil looks like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt ties his horse to a nearby tree then turns around and glares at Jaskier, “We are not doing anything. I am looking for whoever the thief is. It’s not a devil, they don’t exist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier rolled his eyes, “Of course they don’t exist, I thought the term devil was being used metaphorically.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, a projectile flew through the air and embedded itself in the stone behind Jaskier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” he cried out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The grasses across the field from them moved aside. Jaskier saw horns and his mouth opened in surprise. It was a Sylvan. He had no idea there were any herds living this far into the continent. Most would consider it too dangerous. Ever since the Great Cleansing, most intelligent non-humans had done the smart thing and left. He wondered why they were still here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another projectile came towards him and Jaskier ducked down just long enough to avoid being hit. He lay on the ground as Geralt began stalking forward. Jaskier began looking at Geralt more closely. He was clearly not surprised to find a Sylvan here. Geralt knew the thief wasn’t human. He wasn’t a mercenary. He was a Witcher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier felt himself begin to shake. A Witcher. Here. Suddenly the pieces began to fall into place. Geralt’s shock that Jaskier hadn’t recognized him, the innkeeper, and patrons’ disdain for them. Jaskier had figured it had been directed at him but perhaps it had been reserved for the Witcher as well. Fuck, Jaskier was willing to bet that Geralt even had a stupid medallion and he simply hadn’t noticed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first interesting thing to happen to him in years and it had to come at the hands of a fucking Witcher. Monster Hunters, they called themselves. They were the real monsters, paving the way for humans to lay claim to more land than they already had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked over to see Geralt get rammed in his side by the Sylvan who shouted, “Leave me be!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two grappled for a moment and Jaskier slowly crept closer to the fight. He felt another pair of eyes on him but elected to ignore it. He had to stop this Witcher from doing any more harm. If he killed this Sylvan while Jaskier could have done something he would never forgive himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt looks over at the Sylvan in surprise, “You talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I talk!” The Sylvan says, offended. Jaskier rolls his eyes. Of course, he would talk. Geralt must not get out much, for a Witcher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt is pinning the Sylvan to the ground and Jaskier is looking on the ground himself for anything he could use against Geralt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened with you? Your mother fuck a goat?” The Witcher says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am Torque the Sylvan, a rare and intelligent creature!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier finds a rock that looks fairly hefty. He’s able to hold it comfortably in one hand and from behind Geralt, gives a few experimental swings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a dick. With balls,” Geralt replies to Torque. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Balls I got from humans, who left out food filled with iron meant to poison me!” Torque then rips out a chunk of Geralt’s hair and causes the Witcher to cry out in pain. “Did your mother fuck a snowman?” He laughs up at the Witcher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, Jaskier is behind Geralt and Torque can see him for just a moment and Jaskier shakes his head to stop Torque from saying anything. Jaskier doesn’t know if the Sylvan actually cares because Geralt punches him before he can say anything. And that is the final straw. Jaskier raises the rock above his head, hopefully, he will hit Geralt hard enough on the head to just knock him out, not kill him just as the Witcher is speaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I won’t kill you-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever Geralt had been about to finish his sentence with is cut off as Jaskier slams the rock down onto Geralt’s head. The Witcher goes limp and collapses onto the Sylvan. Shit. Geralt had said he was going to let the Sylvan live. Perhaps he had acted too soon by knocking him unconscious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier hears a crunch behind him and does what has already served him well today and falls to the ground. A boot sails over his head and turns to see an elf above him, fists raised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, he wonders why she is so angry at him, then realizes that he looks like a human and raises his hands in surrender before she can have another go at him, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wait, I’m here to help!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he cries out in Elder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps it’s speaking her native language but she stops and looks at him, then looks at Torque who is untangling himself from beneath Geralt’s bulk. Jaskier took this opportunity to stand up, brushing the dust off of himself as he did so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>He knocked the Witcher unconscious,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” says the Sylvan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>But he was traveling with the Witcher in the first place,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” the female elf says in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hello!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jaskier says,  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Still here, and I didn’t know he was a Witcher when I was following him.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elf gives him a look of disbelief,</span>
  <em>
    <span> “You didn’t know he was a Witcher?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She sounded unimpressed and Jaskier felt his face heat up, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I thought he was a mercenary,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he snapped out, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I thought he was just catching a thief, I didn’t know he was going to...go all Witcher and hunt down a non-human.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Sylvan looked him up and down, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why exactly would a human want to help us?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier hated these constant reminders of his cursed form, of his inability to shift back to how he was meant to be, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I was not always human.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The elf pushed into his chest, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What’s that supposed to mean? A human is a human, an elf is an elf.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed her right back, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m cursed!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he shouted, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>and I didn’t exactly want to see a Witcher kill another intelligent non-human while I’m watching. They hung my ancestor’s heads on their walls you know.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently revealing just a dash his traumatizing life story was enough for the elf to let down her guard around him, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Toruviel</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she said, bowing just a bit. She didn’t ask what he once was and for that, Jaskier was grateful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Jaskier</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he said in return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>And I am Torque</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” said the Sylvan, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>but I am sure you already heard that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier nodded, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What now? He said he wouldn’t kill you so I suppose if you leave it might be good enough.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Toruviel laughed, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>And have him tell the humans of our existence out here? I don’t think so. Do you know who this man is?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>He introduced himself to me as Geralt.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh but that isn’t all he is,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Toruviel said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“They call him the Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia, killed over ten people in cold blood a decade ago. This Witcher is not innocent.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier wanted to just write Geralt’s life off, to let Toruviel kill him here, in this field, to help them hide the body and then be on his way, one less Witcher in the world. But something stopped him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Right before I...defused the situation,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jaskier said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Geralt stated he didn’t want to kill you. I think he could be reasoned with.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In all honesty, Jaskier was tired of the cycle of harm and death perpetrated by Witchers and Non-humans all for the sake of a populace that hated them both. Perhaps changing fate here would make a difference. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toruviel looked hesitant but Torque looked more interested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>We could take this to Filavandrel,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Who?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jaskier said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>The King,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Torque replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wind pushed past them and Jaskier was suddenly reminded of just how in the open they were. If any human stumbled across this scene they would kill first and ask questions never. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toruviel appeared to recognize this issue as well and said, “Fine, we need to get out of here. We’ll take him to the King. Follow me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pointed at Jaskier who bent down to pick up Geralt and carrying him to wherever they were headed on his shoulder. He was stronger than the average human, at least that had carried over, but not by much. Still, he was not a small man, and carrying Geralt was not too difficult. Toruviel led Jaskier to a series of interconnected caverns and she motioned for him to set Geralt down on the floor. He did and then a man walked out of one of the connected passageways in the room. This must be Filavandrel. He had blonde hair and held himself with great care. When he saw Jaskier, his eyes widened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>A Great One,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he said. Behind him, Jaskier heard Toruviel and Torque gasp. Clearly, they had both just realized what he once was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier felt himself both pleased and embarrassed. Pleased, because the King had recognized him and embarrassed because he was still very young.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I can hardly be recognized as Great,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he said to the King, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I was born the year after the Great Cleansing. I'm sure you are older than me. However, I am very grateful that you recognized me. Most can’t nowadays.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“While your magic may be practically depleted, I can still sense the outlines.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier felt a fluttering of hope within his chest, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can you tell what’s wrong with it?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Perhaps with time, but it looks like we are running short. That Witcher could wake up any minute, why have you brought him here?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Toruviel stepped in, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“He came to stop Torque, not that he expected a Sylvan of course, and I was just going to kill him but this hum-,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Toruvial stopped and corrected herself, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Jaskier said that he might grant us leniency.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He wasn’t going to kill me,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Torque added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Filavandrel thought for a moment, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>A test then. We reveal ourselves to him and ask if he is going to reveal us to the humans. If it seems he is going to, he dies, if not, he can live.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This seemed fair enough to Jaskier, better than many would give, and well, he did love a good test of courage. There was something compelling about watching the hero of the story struggle through trial. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now the scene needed to be set. Jaskier and Geralt were tied together and Jaskier prepared himself to play the hapless bard. It took just a few more minutes before Jaskier felt Geralt stir behind him. Good. Now the show begins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier whispers to Geralt, “This is the part where we escape.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the part where they kill us,” Geralt gets out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s they?” Jaskier asks. Had Geralt already figured out part of the game? Perhaps he had been able to draw the conclusion from seeing Torque. Well, at least it appeared Geralt did not know Jaskier had been the one to knock him unconscious. That would have been disastrous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Toruviel enters the room. She goes over to Geralt and says, “You monster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt spits at the ground in reply, “Elves,” he says in return. </span>
</p><p><span>Jaskier winces. That is...not a good sign. Their stuff is in a corner at the edge of the room and Torque enters then, his hands going to Jaskier’s lute. He begins to mess around with it and Jaskier feels a pinch of trepidation. </span><span><br/>
</span> <span>This was not part of the plan, “Oi, that’s my lute. Give that back. Quick, Geralt. Do your- your witchering-”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Shut up!” The Witcher says to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier pouts, “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Torque is playing with the lute again and Jaskier is trying to signal with his eye alone. Please don’t touch that lute. I had maybe 10 ducats to my name and that lute I swear that’s it. However, the Sylvan is clearly not a proficient mind reader and does not seem to understand what Jaskier is trying to tell him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toruviel is looking down at Geralt, “Do you want to die now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt smirks, “As opposed to later?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind Geralt, Jaskier knows he should be listening to the conversation but he can’t help but notice the way that Torque’s hand are growing tighter around the lute and clearly trying to send the message directly to Torque’s brain isn’t working so he tries to speak again, making it clear he is no longer playing along. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, not the lu-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier tries to say more but he is cut off by Geralt yelling, “Leave off! He’s just a bard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, that’s a bit insulting. Also nice of Geralt to defend him like that. Still insulting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Toruviel punches Geralt in the face and Jaskier is trying in vain to get out of these ropes. He was pretty sure punching Geralt and fucking around with his lute had not been a part of the plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t deserve the air you breathe,” Toruviel says to Geralt as she hits him again, “Everything you touch, you destroy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier looks over to Torque in just enough time to see him slam the lute against him stupid hairy goat legs then let the pieces fall to the floor. The worst past? The blighter had the gall to wink at him once he’s done it. Jaskier lets out the most offended noise he can muster and attempts to glare a hole into Torque’s head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Toruviel makes the grave error of leaning just a little too close to the Witcher and Geralt headbutts her hard enough that she flies a few feet back. Jaskier has to bite his tongue from calling out her name. That looked painful. Well, he supposed she was asking for it, punching a Witcher in the face and everything. Everyone knows to stay out of range of a Witcher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toruviel is having trouble getting up and she coughs up blood. Jaskier is quite worried about her health at this point and he feels Geralt adjusting his position behind him. He assumes Geralt is looking at Toruviel with that look in his eye, the one that is taking apart every inch of a scene. Jaskier simply hopes Geralt isn’t able to determine this is all a ruse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Filvandrel enters the room, Jaskier doesn’t know if it’s timed or not. He leans down to look at Toruviel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s this?” Jaskier asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s Filavandrel, King of the Elves,” Torque replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Filvandrel scoffs, “Not a king. Not by choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt inclines his head, “Your majesty,” he says then turns to Torque, “You were stealing for them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier feels surprised at Geralt’s acknowledgment of Filvandrel’s title. It’s good that the Witcher is showing respect. He might get out of this alive after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I felt for them. They were forced out of Dol Blathanna,” Torque replies to Geralt and continues, “Toruviel, no one was supposed to get hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toruviel gets to her feet, “What’s two humans in the ground when countless elves have died?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is it, this is the moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One human,” Geralt says and Jaskier feels his heart almost pound out of his chest. How can Geralt know? He’s currently trapped in a human form? Could Geralt perhaps sense it as Filavandrel could? “And you can let him go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier feels his heart fall in the second part of Geralt’s sentence. Of course, Geralt was referring to him as human. It was for the best that Geralt should never recognize him. Witchers and his kind didn’t exactly have the best track record. He heard there had been dragon’s heads mounted in the Griffin’s Keep before it was destroyed. He imagines whatever school Geralt was from was similar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Filavandrel shook his head, “Then Posada will learn that we’ve been stealing. The humans will attack. Many will die… on both sides.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Geralt speaks, his voice sounds a bit distant, removed from the conversation, “The lesser evil. No matter what you choose, you’ll come out bloody and hating yourself. Trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the problem,” the King says, “I can’t. This is necessary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand. As long as you understand… that it won’t be long before you follow me in death,” Geralt says and Jaskier, if he was able, would have buried his head in his hands. Did this idiot just threaten the King of the Elves?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Filvandrel doesn’t kill Geralt on the spot which is good news, “Yes, because they pushed us from viable soil. Even chaos is polluted. Synthetically enhanced so humans can make magic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chaos is the same as it’s always been. Humans just adapted better,” Geralt replies. Ah, he is one of those theorists. There are multiple theories as to why non-human magic is so different from mage magic. There are those such as Filvandrel who believe that Mages have subverted the natural order and are pulling it into their world incorrectly and causing damage to the veil of magic. Then there are those such as Geralt who simply see it as adaptation. Jaskier wouldn’t know who is correct. His experience with magic has always been entirely unique to his kind and he doesn’t have access to it anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You say adapt, and I say destroy,” The King says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt sounds a bit angry now, “You are choosing to starve. You’re cutting off your ear to spite your face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was the wrong thing to say. Filvandrel now matches Geralt’s tone in anger, “You think this is about pride? My elders worked with humans and got robbed of all they had. And when they fought back. They were slaughtered. “The Great Cleansing”, humans call it. I called it digging a mass grave for everyone I loved. And now the humans proudly watch these very fields grow… our babies fertilizer for their grain. I don’t wish to bury anyone else. I was once Filavandrel of the Silver Towers. Now I’m Filavandrel of the Edge of the World. If I bring my people down from these mountains, it would mean bowing to human sovereignty. They’ll make slaves of us. Pariahs of half-blood children.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Geralt speaks, he sounds softer, more empathetic, “Then go somewhere else. Rebuild. Get strong again. Show the humans that you are more than what they fear you to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier has to stop himself from breathing a sigh of relief. He knows now, just as everyone else in the room does, that Geralt isn’t going to say anything. If anything, Geralt is likely to try and convince Jaskier to be silent about this whole ordeal. Filavandrel begins to wind the conversation down, clearly about to let Geralt and him go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like you, Witcher?” The King says, tilting his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt shrugs as well as he can bound in ropes, “I have learned to live with them. So that I may live. If you must kill me… I am ready. But don’t call me human.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Witcher tilts his neck to allow for easier access but instead of killing him, Filvandrel lets out a soft laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cuts the rope binding them together, “I suppose it would be a waste to kill you now. You aren’t going to reveal us to the humans and that is my main concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier stands up, shaking his limbs to get the blood flowing through them properly again and looks down at Geralt. He looks almost surprised but quickly recovers himself and stands up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Follow me and we can grab your weapons,” Torque says. He goes into another room and Geralt hesitates for a moment and Jaskier is wondering why he’s not leaving. Then he realizes, Geralt is waiting for him. Oh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine,” Jaskier says, “Go grab your weapons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt looks him over, making sure he’s fine before nodding and following Torque into another room. Finally, he’s alone with Filvandrel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier turns to him, “You said you might be able to help with my...situation,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s strange,” The King says, “I can still see the outlines of your form, sense the threads of magic that allowed you to shift, but now it’s as if you are a dry riverbed. There was once water there but no longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there anything you can think of to...refill it?” Jaskier pleads. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would help if I knew how you came to be like this,” Filavandrel says. Jaskier chances a glance at the tunnel through which Geralt disappeared and Filvandrel waves a hand, “Don’t worry he says, Torque will keep him busy as long as we need. We have quite a weapons store and Torque does love to over-explain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Filavandrel sits on some boxes nearby and Jaskier elects to stand. Whenever he’s telling a story he always starts pacing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve heard of the Crinfrid Reavers?” He begins and Filavandrel nods so Jaskier continues, “Dragon Hunters. I was young. And stupid. I thought that if I didn’t go after any cattle or herds the humans would leave me alone. I would be free to fly across the continent seeing new places and experiencing new things. And for a few years, I did. I would fly in the night, then during the day shift, and spend time in different human cities, taking in the sights. Then one night I was careless and the Crinfrid Reavers heard reports of a Red Dragon flying over Temeria. It didn’t take long before they were on my trail. I suppose I could have flown home to Zerrikania but then I might have led them back to the others and I couldn’t bear to have that risk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I was able to outfly them for a bit, but then they enlisted the help of a mage. Sabrina Glevissig. You see, a dragon’s magic is a very coveted thing. We are practically walking pools of magical energy, all stored within ourselves. She caught me unawares one night and attempted a ritual that would drain me of all magical power, leaving me on the verge of death and easy prey for the Crinfrid Reavers. What she didn’t understand is that dragons don’t just store magic, we absorb magic. Whatever ambient magic there is we simply take into ourselves until our stores are full. This meant that as she drained the magic from me, I in turn unconsciously began draining the magic from my surroundings, and that included the magic of the ritual. It created a magical paradox and cause the explosion to implode on itself. I felt a tear, deep within myself and then, nothing. When I woke up I was in the woods, alone, in my human form. I’ve tried everything to shift back but I can’t. I no longer have the ability to even feel magic. For all intents and purposes, I am well and truly human now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Filavandre took this all in with a sense of sadness. It was quite depressing, Jaskier thought. He had been stripped of everything he was and now he was weak and human. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe I know what happened,” Filavandrel said, “You lost your ability to absorb magic. However, a dragon’s body requires magic to sustain itself so had you remained in that form you would have died within days. Therefore, you unconsciously reverted to a body that did not require magic. However, since you can no longer absorb magic you are stuck as a human.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That seemed a likely answer, and while it helped Jaskier piece together the why a bit better, “Is there any way to fix it?” He asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Filavandrel shook his head, “I do not believe so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier felt tears burning at the corner of his eyes. Logically, he had accepted he was stuck like this but part of him had been hoping for some kind of magical cure-all. He felt wood press into his hands and looked up to see Filavandrel handing him a beautifully carved lute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take this,” he said, “It’s not much but I do apologize for destroying your last one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Jaskier said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I have experienced losing everything, your entire world crumbling away,” Filavandrel said, “The best thing you can do is continue forward, find purpose. You will find your place in this world again. And well, if you don’t, I’m sure we could find a place for you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier felt his heart warm, he couldn’t stay here, the magic and the people would remind him too much of what he lost but the effort was appreciated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” Jaskier said, “the villagers are not likely to buy that The Witcher came up to the fields, got beat up by nothing, and then left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Filavandrel looked considering, “I suppose so. Yet we must keep our existence a secret. Could you perhaps persuade the Witcher not to return to Posada?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier shook his head, “That would look only more suspicious, that would mean there is definitely something up here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Jaskier had an idea, a crazy one, but it just might work, “What if,” he started, “I told the humans there were elves here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Filavandrel looked at Jaskier as if he had lost his sense, “I believe that was the one issue we were trying to avoid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no hear me out,” Jaskier said, “We tell the humans that there were Elves here, but that Geralt destroyed them. We fake your deaths, keeping you safe, and giving you time to get the hell out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Filavandrel’s eye lit up, “There’s an idea,” he said. Then his head turned, “The Witcher is returning,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The King stood up and they both attempted to look just a bit less familiar with each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt!” Jaskier cried out, actually happy to see the Witcher. He appeared a bit annoyed, likely from listening to whatever Torque had been talking to him about in order to distract him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are leaving,” Geralt said and Jaskier nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Jaskier said to the King and Geralt echoed his response as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They left the caverns to the sunset light of a dying day. Jaskier took a moment to look over Geralt. Now that he knew what to look for, the medallion was far too obvious. How had he missed it before? Perhaps he hadn’t been as sober as he thought. It was a wolf. Huh. Jaskier hadn’t heard much about Wolf Witchers before. Geralt then noticed Jaskier’s new lute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A present from the King?” He said, and Jaskier laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I deserve it,” Jaskier said, “they did break my previous beauty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt gets up onto his horse then, “I don’t have to tell you that telling anyone of the Elves’ survival would be disastrous,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier nods, “I’m a bard, not an idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t they the same thing?” Geralt says and then seems to check himself, “This is where we part ways bard, for good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some small part of Jaskier had been hoping that Geralt might ask him to stick around but the large part was relieved. Witchers and dragons simply didn’t mix, even if one of them was an ex-dragon and not exactly likely to be resuming their scaly form anytime soon. It was better this way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he knew Geralt was a Witcher, Jaskier had daydreams of following him around, chronicling his adventures but he didn’t know if he could stomach doing that with a Witcher. Of course, Geralt seemed like the best sort of Witcher, refusing to kill non-humans and intelligent life, good moral compass. But at the end of the day, Geralt had a silver sword he was likely all too agreeable to shoving through a dragon’s heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Likely for the best,” Jaskier said at length, “You live a dangerous life, Witcher.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then they parted ways, Jaskier heading away from Posada, happy to wave that dreadful town goodbye, and Geralt headed back down the road they came, ready to collect his coin. As Jaskier walked away, he began strumming the lute, thinking of a new song to create. He hadn’t set out in life to become a bard but now that life had handed him this new opportunity, well, he would take Filavandrel’s advice and continue on, finding purpose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, what to name Geralt in the song? Butcher was far too harsh, he hadn’t like how Toruviel had used it. He thought of Geralt’s white hair, the medallion with a wolf upon it. Jaskier smiled, far too obvious. He began singing to himself, feeling the lyrics flow through him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When a humble bard…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier had not expected how popular his song would become. Toss a Coin was a massive hit wherever he went. Perhaps it was the tune, perhaps it was the story, perhaps it was the hero of it all, Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf but audiences ate it up. Very rarely did Jaskier want for coin anymore, anywhere he went he found himself comfortable and well-fed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had begun to write other songs as well. Since Geralt of Rivia seemed to be so popular nowadays, Jaskier wrote fictitious songs about his various adventures. He had one where the White Wolf rescued a princess from a tower, battled a herd of hippocamp by the sea, and finally one where he protected a town from a pack of ogres. Granted, hippocamps were extremely rare and didn’t normally like people and ogres as he described them didn’t exactly exist but the songs were very popular. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, Jaskier had grown bored. He wanted adventure and death-defying heroics in his life, not just stories he made up.  Maybe he should have pushed to travel with Geralt, to record his stories. It felt as though he had missed a great opportunity and was beginning to regret it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He came to expect adoration from the crowds whenever he spoke and settled in to enjoy this comfortable nomadic life. What Jaskier didn’t expect was in the middle of one of his performances for the door to burst open and a very angry white-haired Witcher to be staring him down. Jaskier felt his heart stop. But there was an audience to woo so he played into it, pretending as if he saw Geralt all the time, and not that he had only met the man once months ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone, the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia!” The tavern let up a cheer and Jaskier could practically feel Geralt weighing whether or not he could get away with killing him then and there on that stage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, Geralt settled for leaning against the wall attempting to kill Jaskier with the force of his glare alone. Jaskier finished off his song and walked over to Geralt, sunniest smile on his face, “Ah, hello there Geralt, fancy seeing-ACK”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s sentence was cut off as Geralt grabbed him by the collar and practically dragged him outside. Geralt then pushed Jaskier against the side of the tavern and leaned close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck are you playing at bard?” Geralt said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, Performing,” Jaskier said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt pushed Jaskier into the outside wall of the tavern again before letting go, moving away just a bit but fingering his sword in a way that honestly scared the shit out of Jaskier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what I’m talking about,” Geralt said, “the fucking songs. I was having a perfectly peaceful time and then a two months ago I rode into a town and they are calling me a hero, praising me for saving a Princess I had never heard of from a tower that didn’t exist. They called me the White Wolf and if I have to hear someone say ‘toss a coin’ one more time…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Witcher trailed off dangerously and Jaskier gulped, “Look, uh, Geralt, the first time? I just needed a song alright and then, well, people love you! You are an audience favorite I couldn’t just let that go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt sighed, “What happened to not saying anything about Dol Blathanna.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that was a previous agreement between myself and the king,” Jaskier said, “he wanted a clean getaway and I wanted a hit song, therefore, we faked the Elves’ death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should kill you,” Geralt said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think you will, I’m just a bard you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A very annoying bard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Words hurt Geralt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m well aware. ‘Friend of Humanity’. How did you come up with that bullshit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier smiled, feeling Geralt’s anger abating, “What can I say, it’s inspired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt put his hand on his face, Jaskier noticed he looked a little cleaner than the last time he had seen him and said as much, “You are looking better than the last time I saw you, new armor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Witcher rolled his eyes, “As loathe as I am to admit it, there are benefits to being a friend of humanity, better service for one and better coin for another.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then, what’s the issue with my music? It seems you are clearly benefiting from it, be glad I’m not charging you anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are writing complete shit, nothing you are singing about actually happened. They don’t exist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now it was Jaskier’s turn to roll his eyes, “Well it’s not as if I can get the stories straight from the source now, can I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt looked like he was in physical pain for a moment before he said, slowly and carefully, “If you aren’t going to stop writing songs about me, I would prefer it if they were true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, Jaskeir wondered why this pained Geralt so to say when he read between the lines. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, are you saying that you would like me to travel with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The witcher looked upwards as if for divine guidance before saying, “Yes,” as if it physically pained him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Jaskier said, extending this painful experience for Geralt as long as possible, “you live a rather dangerous lifestyle, could I really stomach having to travel through the muck and shit you are used to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Geralt said and now he was looking almost angry again so Jaskier quickly agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right then, sound fantastic! I will get my stuff and we can talk all about what you are doing here in Creyden and perhaps find a contract for you to hunt down. I will admit the idea-well was running a little dry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt seemed about two seconds away from strangling Jaskier but stopped himself. He had invited the bard along after all. He would have to deal with the consequences himself. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I was feeling like maybe I should start another WIP to work on while I'm plugging away at my 100K darling fic Nightingale so here it is, a Dragon!Jaskier fic. </p><p>I LOVE the idea that it is Geralt that chases after Jaskier and I thought to myself, now how on Earth can I make that happen? And then I thought, well maybe if Jaskier had a reason to hate Witcher he wouldn't really want Geralt around. Then BOOM, this idea was born. </p><p>Shout out to Stars-In-My-Damn-Eyes for the title, originally for another fic but heyy, thanks Ezzie!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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